Anywayzers, I'm here to talk about awkwardness. Maybe you've noticed from previous posts that I really have this major annoyance with awkward moments. Check out What's Up? to learn about my conversational disabilities that lead to countless awkward silences. Tripping discusses the embarrassment of those awkward half-trips. Awkwardness, for me, is the worst emotion. It's worse than anger or guilt or even grief. Okay, maybe it's a little better than grief. But it's still pretty bad, you know?
The reason I'm bringing awkwardness up (again) is because I had an indubitably awkward experience today.
See, I was doing my homework yesterday. The printer was broken. I consider bashing it with my head cuz I really need to get this homework done, pal, but I decide to be logical, rational, respectable, and reasonable. I send the PDF to my mommy who works at an elementary school. She replies to the e-mail confirming that she printed it out. She'll gve it to me when she gets home. Done. But then I have a softball game. When I get home, I eat a bowl of soup, take a shower, and go to bed. We both screw up: she forgets to give it to me, I forget to ask for it. I arrive at school without the assignment, which I keep forgetting about and forgetting about until I get to class and start leafing through my binders and folders. Oh, crap.
So I burst out the door as soon as the bell rings, call my mom, tell her to deliver the homework prontosauraus rex, bustle back into the classroom, gobble out the whole story to Mrs. Goldman, and then find myself in a very awkward situation. She invites me to sit down to have a very serious, personal, uncomfortable talk about why I have a B+ instead of an A in her class. Then she wanders over to her desk to do her grading, I sit there and do my homework. It's all super-silent and weird. She's there, I'm here, we're sitting, it's awkward. Just when I start to wonder what the heck is taking my dearest mother so long, she calls. There's this whole complicated process of multiple phone calls, and then finally Mrs. Goldman hints that maybe I should just turn it in tommorrow for half-credit, since that was all I could get anyway.
Sigh. I agreed. I walked home. I did the rest of my homework. I excercised a great deal of self-control by not pulverising the printer. It did have to endure a few sharp glares and a reproachful "thanks a lot" from yours truly.
I wonder if it's considered sane to communicate with inanimate objects. I just realized that I do it a lot, mostly when I'm alone walking the dog or something. If I trip over something, I'll be like, "Oh! Sorry," and then keep going. Or I thank trees for giving me shade. Stuff like that. Bad habit? Maybe. Or maybe I have special telepathicommunicatiatory powers that enable me to interact with objective forces.